Poetry & Prose by Carol J Forrester

All posts filed under: Central Command

Sasha Meers took over Headquarters after her father’s death; hoping to save the international organisation from ruin. With her grandfather’s legacy on the brink she must do all she can to protect civilians from warring governments and try to restore some form of balance both to Headquarters and Top Side.

Originally posted on Headquarters: There had been some oddities since the start of the war. Weapons that didn’t have quite the intended effect they were supposed to and cities that vanished overnight. That was when people starting moving below ground. What had started with single bunkers turned into networks and then communities, all of which expanded deeper and further until whole cities were living beneath the earth’s surface. One piled on top of the other, layer and layer jumbled together. Headquarters had estimates, approximations for population sizes and military capabilities, but most of the time they were blind to what was going on outside their organisation. Top-side they could keep watch; most of the satellite feeds that had existed before the war were now under Headquarters’ control. However, there were still some areas that Sasha couldn’t view remotely from her office. She had to send men to gather in-tell, survey blind spots and dispatch enemy forces using those hidden spots to encroach further than they should. It didn’t matter if she was practically running on…

Originally posted on Headquarters: Sasha checked the wall of screens again, their soft glow falling across her desk as she shuffled papers in the gloom. No sign of any incoming attacks, and most of the western borders were quiet. Something of a skirmish had broken out just north of Paris but her boys were taking care of that; it was nothing to spend time watching. Leaning back in her chair she double checked, eyes glancing from screen to screen before settling on the keyboard in front of her. Dear Mr President she typed, fingers hesitating as she debated what to put next. She hovered, glancing back up to see if her boys had finished with the outlying force yet and then re-focused her attention. ‘Dear Mr President…’ she read the words back to herself and wriggled her fingers. Discussions must be opened… her fingers stopped again. There was no use in it, no matter what she wrote there would be no answer, GODS! There was no evidence to suggest anyone still living top-side still gave a dam about…

“I wouldn’t touch that!”Timothy’s gloved finger hovered an inch away from the gloopy mess situated in Dr Jessamine Bell’s lab while the boss herself tapped out instructions on the hologram screen behind.“Is it dangerous?” he asked, retracting his hand and ramming it safely into his lab-coat pocket. “Haven’t tested it yet. Could just be gunk with severely funky odor.”Timothy nodded, eyes still fixed on the sample. “They found it topside right?”“Yeap,” said Jessamine, popping the ‘p’. “But why bring it back?”Jessamine shrugged. “Supposedly saved the Director’s life.”“How?” Timothy asked.“Stopped her bleeding to death.” Photo Credit: Madison Wood It’s been a while since I wrote anything for Headquarters so I thought to myself, why not use this prompt as a chance to come up with a couple of new characters and a new idea to move the story along. Now I just have to write the segment which covers the finding of the gunk with severely funky odor

Grant lowered the maps quietly onto Sasha’s desk and turned to leave the room at the same steady pace that he’d used to sneak in. “How did the scans not pick up their presence, how did they creep under our radar, how did we not know about this Grant?” Stringing together an eclectic concoction of curses in his head, Grant stopped and spun around to face Sasha, the surveillance screens shimmering in front of her as they switched from location to location. “At least you got you brother out alive and we have now been alerted to the threat, I think a plan of action instead of questioning your performance as leader of Headquarters might be a more productive use of your time right now, don’t you?” He watched as the muscles in her jaw started their off-key dance and held his breath, he suddenly didn’t want to know what plan of action was about to roll off his boss’ tongue. I wanted the ‘Headquarters’ segments to work just as well on their own as …

There had been some oddities since the start of the war. Weapons that didn’t have quite the intended effect they were supposed to and cities that vanished overnight. That was when people starting moving below ground. What had started with single bunkers turned into networks and then communities, all of which expanded deeper and further until whole cities were living beneath the earth’s surface. One piled on top of the other, layer and layer jumbled together. Headquarters had estimates, approximations for population sizes and military capabilities, but most of the time they were blind to what was going on outside their organisation. Top-side they could keep watch; most of the satellite feeds that had existed before the war were now under Headquarters’ control. However, there were still some areas that Sasha couldn’t view remotely from her office. She had to send men to gather in-tell, survey blind spots and dispatch enemy forces using those hidden spots to encroach further than they should. It didn’t matter if she was practically running on a skeleton crew, to …

‘You’re sure that you’re not about burst into flames?’ James asked, grunting as he pulled himself up towards the next hand hold, the sky grey and heavy above them. He check his grip and reach for the next crevice, his feet fighting for purchase beneath him. Sasha ignored the comment and continued pulling herself up the cliff-face, setting the pace. They’d been at it since the early hours, the watery light from the sun following them through the clouds until it disappeared altogether, mocking her efforts to conquer this one little mountain. Her ponytail swung in the breeze, tickling her shoulder. ‘I mean it’s not like you’re an active agent anymore,’ James said, his breath slightly harsh as he struggled to lift himself. ‘You’re all rubber stamps and colour coded blocks on a map.’ He adjusted his grip and released the cliff with one hand, patting at his belt to find his water bottle. Finding it he tipped his head back and swigged at the dregs, scowling as he found it mostly empty. ‘Who’s to …

Sasha Meers was out of her office and stalking towards Human Resources with only one thing on her mind. This time, her Uncle would die. There was little left of Human Resources, and even less of what had been the Head of Department. Three years previously someone had cleaned off the last of the brain splatter from the wall behind Samuel’s desk, and the bullet hole had been covered with a painting of the Scottish Highlands. Sasha rather liked the painting. It was cheery in comparison to the rest of Headquarters. Her Uncle was not in Human Resources. Nathan Carraman was locked in a cell on the twenty-fourth level of Headquarters, just below the department of biological research and development, a floor that no one but Sasha was supposed to have clearance to. The entrance to the floor just so happened to be hidden in Human Resources. Tuck away behind a filing cabinet that no one had bothered to use in sixteen years since the runners had a nasty habit of being rather temperamental and …

Sasha checked the wall of screens again, their soft glow falling across her desk as she shuffled papers in the gloom. No sign of any incoming attacks, and most of the western borders were quiet. Something of a skirmish had broken out just north of Paris but her boys were taking care of that; it was nothing to spend time watching. Leaning back in her chair she double checked, eyes glancing from screen to screen before settling on the keyboard in front of her. Dear Mr President she typed, fingers hesitating as she debated what to put next. She hovered, glancing back up to see if her boys had finished with the outlying force yet and then re-focused her attention. ‘Dear Mr President…’ she read the words back to herself and wriggled her fingers. Discussions must be opened… her fingers stopped again. There was no use in it, no matter what she wrote there would be no answer, GODS! There was no evidence to suggest anyone still living top-side still gave a dam about international relations. The war …